


“I feel the same.”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [42]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Continuing the series of shorts of possible first kisses between these two.





	“I feel the same.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [newcloud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newcloud/gifts).



> A gift for newcloud. Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> “I had an idea for a storyline that I don't think you've done yet. What about a story where one of them overhears the other admitting their true feelings to a friend, and then has to pretend that they don't know? :)”

Strike and Nick strolled down Octavia Street towards number 80 together, chatting as they went. They had passed a pleasant afternoon watching the footy in the pub, and were ready for generous helpings of Ilsa’s famous shepherd’s pie. Ilsa had been out shopping with Robin that afternoon, but had arranged to meet the men back at the house at five.

They reached the door and Nick slid his key into the lock. The delicious scent of home cooking reached them as they entered the hall, and both men paused to appreciate the aroma. They hung up their coats.

“Need a pee,” Nick announced, heading for the stairs. “Go grab a couple of beers from the fridge, Oggy.”

Strike nodded and proceeded down the hall to the kitchen.

There was no sign of Ilsa, but she was clearly around. A bundle of shopping bags was propped against a cupboard. A bowl of salad and another of crusty bread stood on the counter. The oven hummed quietly to itself, the delicious smell of the dish wafting around. Strike’s mouth watered. He was hungry now, and he loved Ilsa’s shepherd’s pie.

He opened the fridge and removed two beers, opened his. He could hear low voices now, coming through the open patio doors. Ilsa must have someone here, or be on the phone.

He moved across to make his presence known, and his heart lurched as he heard a voice he’d know anywhere. Robin. Ilsa must have invited her back for dinner after their shopping.

Smiling now, he stepped forward, and then hesitated as he heard a groan from Robin.

“What do I do, Ilsa?” she asked. “Do I ask him out? I don’t think I dare. What if things get weird?”

Strike paused, surprised. He and Robin didn’t talk about personal stuff much. He knew her divorce had come through, but he had no idea she was thinking about dating again. But here she clearly had someone in her sights.

“Do you fancy him?” Ilsa asked, and Strike could hear a gentle teasing note in her voice.

“God, yes,” Robin said emphatically. “His eyes, his smile, his hands...” Ilsa giggled, and Strike grimaced a little. _Lucky guy._

“And is it more than that?” Ilsa asked, gentle now.

There was a pause. “Yeah,” Robin said, finally. “I’m crazy about him, Ilsa. But I don’t think he feels the same way. He only sees me as a friend.”

Strike frowned now. He didn’t think Robin had many friends in London. It couldn’t be someone she’d met through Angela, she hadn’t known her new flatmate long enough. An old friend from home, maybe? But she hadn’t been back to Yorkshire for ages, seeming to avoid it since her split from Matthew.

“I think it’s more than that for him, too,” Ilsa said quietly.

Strike shook his head. _I shouldn’t be listening,_ he thought. _This is wrong._ And he didn’t particularly want to hear that Robin was falling for someone. It hurt more than it should. He went to step forward again.

“Trust me,” Ilsa went on. “I’ve known him since we were six. He’s crazy about you too, I can see it in him.”

Strike froze. His brain scrambled madly to catch up. Was Robin...? She was talking about fancying...him? Being crazy about him?

Out on the patio, Robin groaned again. Strike could hear a little glassy clink as Ilsa topped up their wine. “I can’t,” Robin said now. “What if you’re wrong? We still have to work together. And I’d rather have him as my friend than try for something more and lose him altogether.”

Exactly the conclusion Strike had reached some months ago. His heart was hammering in his chest now.

Behind him, Nick was descending the stairs. Strike hurriedly pulled back and busied himself at the counter opening Nick’s beer. His hands were shaking, he noted absently. His world had turned upside down in the space of a minute. Joy surged through him.

 _Calm down,_ he thought. _It’s still a bad idea._ But he couldn’t control the delight in his heart, and yes, a swell of masculine pride. Gorgeous, sexy Robin fancied him. What was it again? His eyes, his smile, his hands... He gave Nick a beaming grin as he handed the beer across that made his friend start a little in surprise.

“Steady on there,” Nick said, grinning back. “What’s got into you all of a sudden?”

Strike laughed suddenly, happier than he’d been in longer than he could remember. “Arsenal won and I’m about to get a very large plateful of Ilsa’s amazing shepherd’s pie,” he said, grinning. “Does life get any better?”

Nick cast a sideways glance at him and shook his head fondly.

Ilsa stuck her head in through the doorway. “Yay, you’re back,” she said. “Robin’s going to join us, I assume that’s okay?”

Nick shot another sideways look at Strike, calculating suddenly, and smiled at his wife. “Of course,” he said warmly. “Hi, Robin.”

“Hi,” Robin smiled at the men as she stepped into the kitchen. Nick kissed her on the cheek and then gave his wife a playful squeeze on the bottom as she turned her attention to the food. Ilsa squeaked and batted him away playfully.

Strike moved to kiss Robin too, and saw her surprise. He tried not to grin at her too hard, but he couldn’t help but linger just a little on her cheek, enjoying the catch in her breathing, the slight flush to her face. Why hadn’t he noticed before?

Because he’d been so carefully keeping his distance so as not to give away his own feelings.

He stepped back, and she dropped her gaze and moved to help with the food.

“It’s ready,” Ilsa declared, and they all bustled about, fetching plates, serving up. They carried platefuls of food out to the patio and sat to enjoy the last of the evening sun. Strike and Nick filled the girls in on their football, and Ilsa and Robin talked about their shopping. Strike and Robin told about their latest case.

It felt...right. It felt perfect. They worked well together as a foursome. Strike was trying not to give himself away, aware that Nick had sensed something, was watching him closely. He strove to behave as normal, although nothing was normal now he knew Robin felt the same way about him as he’d long felt about her. He couldn’t remember what normal was, he’d been so busy battling to hide how he felt. Now happiness was trying to bubble up out of him.

He was also enjoying covertly watching Robin, seeing now the way her gaze lingered on his just slightly longer than necessary. The way she hurriedly looked away when he smiled and crinkled his eyes at her. The way he caught her sometimes gazing at his hands, now that he was looking for it. He’d never been a man to give his own looks much thought, but Robin’s admiration made him feel attractive suddenly. It was new, but...not unpleasant.

They passed a pleasant evening on Nick and Ilsa’s patio, and eventually Robin declared herself ready to head home. Strike would normally have stayed later, but he wasn’t going to let her leave alone, especially not this evening. They collected their coats, said their good nights and left.

“What’s up with Corm?” Ilsa asked as she and Nick tidied up the kitchen, working as a practised team. “He looked...different.” She shrugged. “Happier, more relaxed and confident. If he wasn’t our best mate, I’d say sexier.”

“I dunno, but I know what you mean,” Nick said. “He wasn’t like that in the pub, that started when we got back here.”

Ilsa grinned. “Robin, then,” she said. “And she’s crazy about him too, she told me today. Maybe they’ll finally...” The rest of her sentence was lost in a squeak as Nick kissed her.

“Remember when that was us?” he murmured against her mouth.

She giggled. “Barely,” she said. “It was half a lifetime ago.”

“Come upstairs and I’ll remind you.”

“The dishes...”

“..can wait. I can’t.”

 

...

 

There was a companionable silence as Strike and Robin strolled to the station. Strike sighed. The world was good. Good food, beer, football, friends...and Robin.

She glanced at him sideways. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Never better. Why?”

“You look...different tonight.” _Sexy as hell,_ she thought. She’d struggled to keep her eyes off him. He just seemed...bigger, happier, even more masculine than normal.

He grinned at her, and her heart flipped. “Good different?” he asked roguishly.

Robin stopped walking and stared at him. He never fished for compliments. “Yes, actually,” she said. “You look happy.”

He stopped too and turned to face her. She looked so beautiful in the dark, illuminated by the soft glow of the street lights. _Kairos._

“I overheard you talking to Ilsa,” he said softly.

“Oh.” She coloured prettily, dropping her gaze.

“I feel the same,” he said, quiet and serious now. “Have done for months.”

Slowly, still blushing, she raised her eyes back to his. Strike looked at her for a long moment, and then leaned down and kissed her.

With a happy sigh Robin leaned in to him, her arms creeping up around his neck. Strike’s arms slid around her back and pulled her closer as their lips explored. Gently he opened his mouth to hers and brushed his tongue over her top lip, felt her shudder, felt her tongue seek his. They kissed for a long minute, stood on the street, and then Strike slowly drew back. Smiling, he took her small hand in his huge one, and they set off for the station again.

 

 


End file.
